The Taste, the Touch
by TartanLioness
Summary: Epilogue to “All Clear”. Sam and Foyle find their happiness. Set to Asteria’s song “The Taste, the Touch”. Oneshot.


Title: The Taste, the Touch.

Author: Tartan Lioness

Summary: Epilogue to "All Clear". Sam and Foyle find their happiness. Set to Asteria's song "The Taste, the Touch".

A/N: First finished Foyle's War Fanfic, dedicated to Shadowsamurai for unwittingly making me a fan. Thanks Sam! Hope you enjoy.

--

The air is alive with joy and relief, a tiny flicker of melancholy and sadness for those who didn't make it to this day still present. People are everywhere in the streets of Hastings – and all over England – and without a care for station or rank they dance among each other. Sam looks back over her shoulder as she leaves the police station, catching a last glimpse of her boss as Andrew drags her into the mass of people, pulling her closer and dancing with her.

Sam laughs, she can't help it. She is too relieved and too happy to worry about anything right now, and she tries to push back the pang of regret she felt when she walked away from Foyle to dance with his son.

_So this is it, the feeling that I've missed,_

_A subtle kind of pain that keeps me from sleep._

_I try to explain how your touch drives me insane_

_And I can't spend a night without wishing I was with you._

She knows what they are, the feelings she has for her boss, she has known for a while. For a long time, she tried to deny it, but in the end, she realised that it was impossible. It's impossible to deny the fact that on those rare occasions when he touches her, she feels a bolt of electricity run through her and the fact that on sleepless nights it is not Andrew or Joe or even Clark Gable that occupy her thoughts but rather her quiet enigmatic boss.

Sam is not the type of person to worry too much about the things she says, but nevertheless she has always known that her feelings for DCS Foyle must be kept a secret, even (or perhaps especially) from him.

But now, as she dances with Andrew, even the happiness and relief at the end of the war can't dispel her sudden desire to tell her boss everything, to tell him that she loves him and wants to be with him no matter what, that she doesn't want to leave Hastings and doesn't want to marry Andrew; that she doesn't want Foyle as her father-in-law, but as her lover (Sam nearly blushes as she thinks about it) and companion and nothing less.

_I wanna tell you a secret  
And leave it on your lips  
Wanna sing it through your body  
Wanna tell it through this kiss  
If I told you my secret  
Would you swear to keep it?  
Would you swear to keep it?_

Foyle watches the mass of people from the shadows of the police station.

"_I'll catch you up."_

"_Are you sure? We'll never find you!"_

"_I'll make sure you do. Off you go."_

Of course, it has never been his intention to join Sam and his son – this is a time for them to enjoy themselves and be young and free. The war is over. The last thing they need is an old man interrupting their celebrations. Instead, he was planning to go home; but now he is hiding in the shadows, unable to tear himself away from the sight of his driver dancing with his son.

_Watching you dance and seeing you smile  
Still getting butterflies every once in a while  
Feelings exist I'm falling  
twist on lust  
a choice to care  
a wish to touch _

He can't help it. Seeing Sam dance and laugh and celebrate makes him so unbelievably happy. He wants her to be happy more than anything. No, that is a lie. More than anything, he dreams of her being happy with him. It's silly really. He has already had a chance at happiness and he had an amazing marriage. But even so, the sight of Sam laughing and enjoying herself does strange and wonderful things to his stomach – something he hasn't felt for many years. He loves her and he has kept that a well-hidden secret for years now.

He's always been good at hiding his true feelings and he is sure no one knows of his love for the young and vibrant woman who has been his driver for five years now.

Foyle has never been good with words, especially not personal and emotional words. But now, at the end of the war, knowing they've both made it through alive, he wants to tell her everything, wants to kiss her and hold her and tell her that he loves her and wants to make her smile and laugh every day and enjoy the peace and joy she has brought into his life.

_I wanna tell you a secret  
And leave it on your lips  
Wanna sing it through your body  
Wanna tell it through this kiss  
If I told you my secret  
Would you swear to keep it?  
Would you swear to keep it?_

Several dances later, Sam catches Foyle's eyes over the shoulder of her dance partner and smiles at him. He smiles back softly and nods in her direction. Sam quickly excuses herself with an apologetic smile to her partner. He doesn't mind, just moves on to a new girl. It's not a sign of disrespect; everybody is dancing with everybody, embracing and kissing cheeks, just enjoying themselves.

Foyle's eyes move from Sam, hoping she won't notice that he has been watching her celebrate. When he looks back to where she was, she's gone, and Foyle sighs. He should be going home anyway.

Sam moves nimbly through the crowds, heading for the police station.

Searching the throng of people one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sam, Foyle puts his trilby on, ready to leave. Suddenly, however, Sam steps out of the crowd, smiling brilliantly at him. There is something different about her, Foyle notices. Her hair is coming lose and there is a glow in her cheeks and a twinkle in her eyes that he is happy to see. He smiles at her.

"You never really meant to come find us, did you, Sir?" she asks, but he can tell that she's not angry. There's a smile playing at her lips and one of her eyebrows is raised in question.

"No, Sam," he admits. Before she can ask why, he continues, "This is a time for young people. You should go dance with Andrew." There's nothing pathetic in his voice, just the knowledge that he can't give her what she needs.

"Well, sir, you did promise to come find us and I was rather hoping… well," she stumbles and a blush creeps into her cheeks.

"Yes?"

"Well, sir, to be honest, I was rather hoping I could share a dance with you." Sam smiles slightly at him, her embarrassment obvious.

"Oh," he says, taken by surprise. "Hm."

Sam can't believe she actually just said that. The truth is, she has wanted to share a dance with him since the time he let her stay in his back room when her home was bombed. She had danced with Milner when she stayed at his place, and, finding herself living with Foyle, she had thought about the differences between them, and wondered what it would be like to dance with the older man.

Foyle isn't looking at her when he finally nods ever so slightly and reaches his hand out for her to take. Blushing furiously, Sam steps into the circle of his arms, taking one of his hands in hers and placing her other hand on his shoulder. Foyle gently places his other hand on her waist as they start to move.

The music flowing through the streets is nearly drowned by the laughter and the chatter of so many cheerful people, but it doesn't matter; people are dancing to their own music.

Sam and Foyle move slowly together, silent at first. Then Sam says quietly, "It's odd that it's all over now. Feels almost scary to be able to think about the future again, not worrying about Jerry dropping a bomb on us. I wonder what I'll do now. The men will come home, and the women will lose the jobs they did so well while our boys were out fighting for king and country. I don't really want to go back to Lyminster," she muses and Foyle looks at her, skilfully hiding his shock. Suddenly he realises that she is right. The men will come home, including his old driver, and he will most likely never see Sam again. The thought pains him.

Sam doesn't seem to notice anything, she just goes on talking.

"I suppose a lot of my friends will be happy. Their young men will be coming home. Some of them got married in a rush and haven't seen their husbands since. Must be terrible. Do you ever think about love, sir?"

Foyle stops abruptly and Sam chastises herself, briefly considering the wisdom of the saying 'look before you leap'. She looks at her shoes, embarrassed to feel Foyle's hands let go of her.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's none of my business."

"You know, Sam," Foyle says softly. "It would be a lie to say I haven't thought about it. In fact, I've thought about it more and more recently."

"Really, sir?"

He nods, but says, "But I've had a wonderful marriage, I loved my wife very much, and that is it."

"Oh, poppycock, sir! I mean, if you love somebody, you should pursue it. Everybody deserves a bit of happiness!" Sam doesn't know where she gets the courage, but on the other hand, Foyle has never spoken this openly about his life before the war.

_When you say never I'll say lie  
Whe__n you say always I'll say true _

Foyle smiles softly at her, amusement evident in his eyes as he gathers her into his arms again and continues their dance.

"And you, Sam? Are you going to marry Andrew now that the war is over?"

Sam bites her lip. "He told you he proposed to me?"

"Not in so many words, but he cares deeply for you."

"I really do like him, sir. He's a fine young man, but…"

Foyle looks at her, silently encouraging her to go on.

"But it's not him I love." She knows the second she has said the words that she should have phrased it differently. And sure enough, Foyle's next question is who it is she loves then.

Foyle hates himself for asking, he doesn't want to know. On the other hand, he has to know. Maybe the knowledge that she is in love with someone will dispel his own ridiculous feelings for her.

But Sam is quiet for a long time. Then she finally says, "It's a secret. But if you really want to know…" There's a note of finality in her voice, something that tells him that she has made a difficult decision. He nods. He does want to know.

Sam looks at her feet, looking slightly pale. They've moved to the outskirts of the crowd of people, almost back into the shadows where Foyle had stood watching her dance.

Foyle reads her correctly; she _has_ made a difficult decision. But she's tired of hiding. The war is over, now is the time to be happy and her happiness seems to lie with him. She takes a deep breath and finally answers him.

"You."

_When you say love I'll say you  
I'll say you  
I'll say you  
I'll say you  
I'll say you_

Foyle stares at her for a moment, unable to process the word she has just spoken. She is biting her lip but no longer staring at her feet. Her face is not pale anymore, nor is it flushed with anything but the excitement of the day. She looks into his eyes squarely, as if finally revealing her secret has given her a new sort of strength.

"Hm." Foyle's eyebrows are raised and he looks away for a moment. He has never been good with words and he can't describe the unbelievable joy that courses through him at the moment. The only thing he can say is that, hm, and he knows that it's not enough.

"Sam," he says gently. "I have a secret too."

And he pulls her closer, knowing that actions will speak the words he can't tell her yet. As he lowers his lips gently to hers, he sees a smile break out on Sam's face.

_I wanna tell you a secret  
And leave it on your lips  
Wanna sing it through your body  
Wanna tell it through this kiss  
If I told you my secret  
Would you swear to keep it?  
Would you swear to keep it?_

Andrew moves through the masses, looking for Sam or his dad. When he finally finds them, he stops dead in his tracks. They're nearly hidden in the shadows, but he can see them embrace each other lovingly. Their kiss is brief, neither approving of public displays of affection, but full of love. Andrew can see Sam's eyes shine as she laughs joyfully, and the smile on his father's face tells him everything he needs to know.

They're happy together.

The end.


End file.
